Present

This woman vomiting her hunger over the world this melancholy woman forgotten before memory came this yellow movement bursting forth like coltrane's melodies all mouth buttocks moving like palm tress, this honeycoatedalabamianwoman raining rhythm to blue/black/smiles this yellow woman carrying beneath her breasts pleasures without tongues this woman whose body waves desert patterns, this woman wet with wandering, reviving the beauty of forests and winds is telling you secrets gather up your odors and listen as she sings the mold from memory. there is no place for a soft / black / woman. there is no smile green enough or summertime words warm enough to allow my growth. and in my head i see my history standing like a shy child and i chant lullabies as i ride my past on horseback tasting the thirst of yesterday tribes hearing the ancient/black/woman me, singing hay-hay-hay-hay-ya-ya-ya. hay-hay-hay-hay-ya-ya-ya. like a slow scent beneath the sun and i dance my creation and my grandmothers gathering from my bones like great wooden birds spread their wings while their long/legged/laughter stretched the night. and i taste the seasons of my birth. mangoes. papayas. drink my woman/coconut/milks stalk the ancient grandfathers sipping on proud afternoons walk like a song round my waist tremble like a new/born/child troubles with new breaths and my singing becomes the only sound of a blue/black/magical/woman. walking. womb ripe. walking. loud with mornings. walking. making pilgrimage to herself. walking.